


there's something

by ThisJoyAndI



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 2x05, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 07:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12812364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisJoyAndI/pseuds/ThisJoyAndI
Summary: (about his manners)'He might have been the one to ring, but she needs to be the one to end the call. Before she says something only a part of her will regret.'





	there's something

The line is crackly, his voice quiet, but she can hear FP as clearly as he used to hear him bellow plays on the football field. safely seated beside Fred in the stands.  “I heard about what you wore to the opening. Wish I could’ve seen it in person.” He whistles, as if they are sixteen again and she has turned up to a party in one of Hermione’s miniskirts, as if she wants his validation. “You never were subtle, were you Alice?”

She rolls her eyes, phone gripped tightly in her hand. “Really, FP?” she queries, brow quirked even though he cannot see it. “You and I both know that you only get one phone call a day, and you’ve chosen to waste it on gossip?”

Truth is, her outfit for the opening had been carefully selected, her entrance perfectly timed, and even from inside jail, FP knows that. Hal had asked her if it wasn’t wiser for her not to attend, and for once, she had acquiesced to his not so subtle hint. A smarter man would’ve realised immediately that something wasn’t right, but Hal was always an average student, and time certainly hasn’t been kind to his wits. She’d bought the outfit soon after FP’s snide comment the night of Jughead’s birthday, purchasing it online to not arouse suspicion, and stashed it away into the depths of her closet until she required it, aware that sooner or later, the image of Alice Cooper, reporter, wife and mother, the perfect façade she had worked so tirelessly to create and maintain, would unfortunately be destroyed.

She hadn’t expected that Betty would be the one to do the destroying, and the thought still stings a little – just like it had stung when the needle pressed against her hipbone, the black ink marking her for life. FP had carefully rubbed cream on it, taking care of it the same way she had months before taken care of his, the snake etched in the traditional place on his bicep. When he saw it, Hal had merely narrowed his eyes and huffed. Seven months later, the swell of her belly had distorted the tattoo somewhat, the prom dress she had saved so diligently to afford sitting unworn in her closet and a hastily borrowed dress stretched over her expanding figure instead. The dress had still been too tight, constricting her figure as she yelled at Hal, Bon Jovi’s latest hit thankfully masking the sound of their argument for everyone except for FP.

“Well it’s not like I’ve got anything of interest to report,” FP quips, and Alice cannot help but laugh at that, at the snarky tone of his voice which instantly transports her to a time of cafeteria lines, underage drinking and stolen kisses. Shaking her head, she sits down at her vanity, withdrawing a makeup wipe from its packaging.

“What, prison not meeting your entertainment standards?” she retorts, rubbing the eyeshadow from an eye. “You know, you should really brush up on your reading now you’ve got all this extra time. Read some crime novels, learn how to defend yourself.” She’s jesting, but both she and FP know a part of her is entirely serious. He might have a lawyer, but they both know lawyers can be bought. His return to Riverdale might be all but guaranteed, but she thought she destroyed every copy of her arrest report.  
  
“How are the kids?” FP asks, quiet. There it is – the reason for his phone call at last. There’s always been a hidden agenda with FP, a secret motive. She cannot hate him for it, not when she knows she is the exact same. He wants to know how his son is doing, and as the mother of Jughead’s girlfriend, she is his best bet at extracting information.

Only – she isn’t sure if Jughead and Betty can be considered boyfriend and girlfriend anymore, not if the redness to Betty’s eyes is anything to judge by. High-school romances are always a fickle thing, more so when one’s boyfriend is attempting to restore order to a gang that is partially comprised of teenage boys desperate for blood. FP and his  counterparts might be all for peace now, worn out by years of scuffles and life itself, but she remembers what they were like when they were freshly initiated, itching to wreak havoc and earn their place at the table. She’d been the same, no matter how “unladylike” it may have been.

They’d all been so eager, so clueless, that the just turned eighteen FP had nearly managed to earn himself a place in jail, only avoiding a sentence because she had given the Sheriff a full confession and refused to give up her accomplices, Fred bailing her out of jail and FP handing her a jam-filled doughnut from the backseat – an early birthday present, and just the thing she’d been craving for days. Only, she’d been entirely unaware that this craving was of the pregnancy kind, and not just her usual need for sugar in the days leading to her period.

“They’re good,” she says, shaking her head to clear it of the memories. “Jughead hasn’t been around as much lately, but Betty tells me that he’s just busy.” A lie, but a necessary one. She rubs the lipstick from her lips, before telling FP, “You should ring him. I think it would be good for him to hear from you. He’s trying to restore order to the Serpents, and who better to advise him than their actual leader?”

“I can think of someone else would could help him,” FP replies. “Someone who isn’t in jail. Someone who was, is, and will forever be a Serpent, no matter how much she tries to deny it.”

“No FP,” she tells him, sharp. Her mascara is smudged, a black line under her eyes. “Everyone in this stupid town might know of my tarnished past now, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to act the way they expect me to. Besides,” she says, somewhat primly, “Hal wouldn’t let me.”

FP chuckles, and she can almost hear him rubbing his stubble. “You and I both know that’s never stopped you Alice,” he murmurs, and she cannot help the shiver that courses through her body at the sound.

He might have been the one to ring, but she needs to be the one to end the call. Before she says something only a part of her will regret. “Goodnight FP,” she utters, face now devoid of any makeup. Still clad in her outfit, the snake firmly clasped around her neck, she knows that she looks somewhat ridiculous. She itches to retrieve her jacket from the attic, to slip her arms into it and feel the constriction of the leather.

“Night Alice. Sleep well.”

The screen on her phone now black, she looks at herself in the mirror and inhales deeply, running a hand through her hair. Her dark roots are beginning to show through. She’ll need to remember to buy hair dye tomorrow at the store, where she’s certain to be met with a snide comment or two.

 _Did the baby have dark hair? Or did he have blond hair, like Polly and Betty? For the life of her, she can’t remember._  


End file.
